The Student and Master
by M. Sherlock
Summary: A student of the force contemplates attachment to a Jedi Master she's forbidden to have, questioning the Jedi and its Code. Two diametrically opposed forces; the dynamic of their relationship breaks and throws any orthodox they might posses to the wayside. [Kenobi/OC].
1. Diametrically Opposed

"Master Kenobi!"

The pounding in her chest did not betray the urgency in her voice. The heat rushing through her blood was like bubbling magma beneath the surface of her skin, threatening to pour out of her and run a jagged pathway down the parastone floors of the Jedi Temple courtyard. The ringing in her ears was stronger than the force itself – she was compelled by some unseen effort, urging her forward – as if the force itself was thrusting her every step and pushing her, crying out deep within her soul. Everything she knew betrayed her – every ethic and ever principle of the Jedi Code was thrown out the proverbial window as she saw him begin to leave the courtyard.

The whole earth moved slowly, as if in a captured moment of relativity that played over and over in a motionless cycle. Her legs burned with ache, feeling more like stone pillars shaking themselves from cement than her own appendages. The air seemed to breathe, moving in and out as she took in the oxygen into her lungs; which likewise burned as if swallowed in sulfur. Every nerve pulled tight throughout her body and screamed with a newfound, painful fear. She felt literally torn in two – everything she knew about herself was lost, and everything she knew about being A Jedi suddenly became nill. It didn't matter, because the hitching of her chest was all that she could think about; the swirling of her stomach and the tears burning a trail down her cheeks.

He wasn't stopping, paying her any attention. Briefly she considered that this was a dream – that these months under his teachings had been nothing but wishful thinking. That studying his movements and his intellect and his finesse had been concoction's of a young, desperate girl's mind – a young mind deprived of acceptance and passion and romance. She had been studying with other Jedi under Obi-Wan Kenobi's tutelage – in ways of the force, combat technique and proficiency, more practical forms of light-saber combat. He had been introduced to them on a sabbatical away from his _Open Circle Fleet,_ a reprieve from the war to gather and recollect himself as a Jedi. He had volunteered to conduct an intensive study program for whomever would like to attend and better understand the attributes of having presence as Jedi in a war. It had been organized to test and prepare Jedi for the coming time where they too may have to go to war and lead – to prepare them for their next steps in the Republic. For the students attending, it would define their experience with the Republic and its Senate, and its war.

She had leapt at the chance wholeheartedly to study under a Jedi such as Obi-Wan Kenobi. His reputation – which, he humbly denied – preceded him on all counts. He was one of the most proficient force users within the Order; he practiced it with finesse and ease as if it were a part of him and not something which he needed access too. Kenobi wielded the force like it was an extension of himself – like no one she had seen. He navigated mind tricks and persuasion as if he himself had invented them – the mind became open to him like a book of his choice. While others, such as his former padwan Anakin Skywalker, were strong in the force when they yielded it; Kenobi himself was strong in the force in just presence alone. He understood it eloquently and passionately, and approached it openly and romantically. It was as much a part of him as he was it.

However, she had not expected to fall into such favor with him so quickly. Immediately he had singled her out as a star pupil and had seen her potential. She became the object of his lessons and the mannequin of his lectures; the extension of his teaching. There were nine others in the audience of students under his study, but she may as well have been the only one. He kept solid eye contact with her and addressed her by name, individually. He used her examples and her work – asked her rhetorical questions and simulated responses. He pulled her out of the audience and had made her an example of the rest. While it had all been glorious, it had been terrifying at the same time. For more than one reason.

Not only had their time within the classroom been meaningful – never before had she learned so much from one human being – their time _outside_ the classroom was meaningful, as well. She had often found herself at his side, conversing with him on the politics of the war and goings on of the Jedi; they discussed ethics and morality, virtue and religion. Passion came and went in conversation as if it were breathing itself. And the ways of the force – those were topics she had found him most passionate about, most dedicated to. He was as much a student as she was beside the force, and she'd found the sparkle in his eye most becoming when they'd walked in the gardens of the Temples talking about the Old Republic and the Jedi of old.

He had taken in her another padawan, she assumed – or, perhaps a friend. She was a Knight by all respects but had never been stationed in the war; always on Coruscant teaching younglings or serving diplomatically. He, however, had treated as if she were an equal on all respects and listened to her contently, pondered her thoughts and counter argued her observations respectfully. Their talks became longer as the weeks had progressed into months, soon turning into strolls, then lunches. Their lunches became sessions, and their sessions became lessons. And, before she had known it, he was teaching her all over again. Whether it was in force abilities or philosophy, he taught her personally and intimately – sharing bits about himself that she got the idea he would not so readily share with her class. He told her stories, she asked him questions. And the roles reserved, day after day.

Until, their sessions turned into combat trainings – he trained her in the arts of the lightsaber, and she helped him fine-tune his hand-to-hand martial skills. He sharpened her observations, and she challenged his speed. They pulled from one another new lessons each and every time they engaged in a new endeavor, until it had become expected. Regular. Routine.

Personal.

And then, before she had known what had happened, he had invited her to his quarters to discuss books. She hadn't known he loved literature, or that he'd kept a collection of the finest works she'd never seen. He had invited her back that first time after a sparring match of lightsaber technique in the training grounds, when no one had been around. Everyone was either on assignment or engaged with the Senate – no one had bothered to take notice of their time spent together, ever. And, thus, no one had noticed the high irregularity when he'd asked her to his quarters to discuss Twi'leki poetry.

It had opened a new level of their relationship – no longer remained the Master/apprentice dynamic, but entered in a new understanding of friendship. She was now his equal; his acquaintance. No longer was she an assignment or a student, no – she was his friend, a reliable source of emotional engagement and confidence. It was thrill she had never anticipated nor experienced before with a man – and the dynamic brought with it an entire new set of emotions she had not known existed.

All of her life she had been warned against passion – that it betrayed the soul and the heart and the will. Passion and emotion were ways of the weary and hot-headed; they brought trouble and led to the dark-side. To delve into one's emotions was a dangerous act and unbalanced the mind, the Order had said; it waged consequential wars that one should not be willing to contemplate. It was an action of chaos – sudden, unprepared, uncontrolled. The force was strengthened in dedication, servitude, peace, and control – not fleeting emotions and decisions made in haste. Emotions led to attachments, and attachments forced selfishness and selfish tendencies. One did not think when in the face of attachments – they _felt_ , and feelings betrayed reason. All a very delicate balance to navigate, she had realized in her younger years – delicate, and not to be tampered with.

But, she could not help but feel passion in these moments of intimacy with Obi-Wan Kenobi. And, she could tell that he too had fallen from the wayside – the twinkle in his eyes and the passion in his voice betrayed all knowledge of the Jedi Code and its precepts. They had talked about their own understandings of passions, and their own feelings on the matter of attachments within the force – and both had agreed that if one was willing to lay their life down for another because of love or some other form of attachment, that passion in that sense was not wrong. It was when passion led to greed and power that it became dangerous – when it led to the loss of honor and control.

And soon, she realized, she had begun to anticipate their meetings on a deeper level. She caught herself thinking about Kenobi outside of his presence – caught herself daydreaming about him and his adventures; their time together, the poetry he so romantically pursued. She had begun to think of him as more than a Jedi and more than a friend – he was a _man._ And she was a _woman_. Two so diametrically opposed forces that were thrown into the world to navigate together, not apart. Men and women were created to love and to prosper together; to join and become one on the behalf of the betterment of the universe. It was through them that the generations came and that dedication and honor was built.

She had remembered her first realization of Obi-Wan Kenobi being a man clearly – it never ceased to betray her. They had been dueling rigorously in a sparring match, working on force-pulls and pushes in the midst of single-blade dueling. It had been an hourly, meticulous match to be certain – they had shed more clothing than one would have probably considered appropriate. They had been sweating to the point of becoming drenched – his hair damp and his beard dripping; her curls pinned to her face and the back of her neck as if they had been glued there. She had become oddly aware of his strength and the flesh that peeked out from the laces of his crepe tunic – oddly aware and oddly satisfied, mostly curious. She had never seen a man's chest before, and it had flared a spark of curiosity within her. She had become strangely entranced by his movements and the physicals details of his body in ways she had never been before. It had terrified her.

She had taken her fears to meditation, only to find them increased. He was in her meditation, too – guiding her and flashing before her visions. His voice was rooted in the serenity and quiet of her mind, his laughter ringing in the silence. She felt his presence even at a distance, and the rush of adrenaline that kickstarted her heart every time she thought about him. He followed her into her dreams as well and plagued her there – teaching her and sparring with her and laughing with her. Though, while it terrified her – it left her desperate for more of him, and awkwardly drawn to his side.

He had noticed, too. She had seen the shifting glances at her in the classroom before the others, and had noticed that he had backed away from her more than he ever had before. It horrified her that he might now of her secret attraction to him, but also it terrified her. If he was as loyal a Jedi as she assumed him to be, he would immediately take her before the Council and have her either exiled or reconditioned. Attachments were forbidden, as was romance or anything other than friendship – which, even then, if not properly navigated, became a problem. It broke a part of her away knowing that he had sensed it and had chosen to back away from it. It had been going on for weeks now, his distance from her. Though he had never turned her away, he did not approach her like he once had. Though, however, she noticed his eyes were as deep and welcoming as they always had been. They called to her as they had before, in the beginnings of their friendship. And they still called to her, even though he had put her at arm's length.

She wondered if it was her fault – if she had pressed into him too much and hadn't noticed. Or if she had been desperate and had failed to control her emotions, as a good Jedi should. Briefly the thought had crossed her mind that she had willed him into this and had been brash in their friendship; had taken too much and given far more of herself than would be considered appropriate within the Order. Perhaps he had not thought twice about taking her under his wing, and now was facing the consequences by sensing the shift in the force. Because there _had_ been a shift. A big one – and they'd both known it, for some time.

She didn't want this to be her fault – she didn't want to have been the reason for his downfall, if there was one. She didn't want him to back away from her and keep her at arm's length, nor did she want him to doubt himself as a Master. She wanted him to succeed and be stronger, to glean from this experience as much as she had. If she could take all this back and reverse things, she would've – anything to bring the Kenobi back that she had known in the beginning days of this friendship; the beginning foundations. She desperately had to fix this.

But the way he looked at her, spoke her name, talked with her all were implications that she was more to him than just a student. She was more than a fellow Jedi; more than a bright girl with a strong future in the force. She was more to him than an endeavor; than a project, than a reprieve of the war. She was _someone_. Someone he had invested himself in, someone he had entrusted bits of his past with, someone who he had relished in his personal passions beside. The way he carefully guided her in technique and the genteel touches; the side-looks in class, the smiles and welcoming energy he conveyed outside the confines of lecture all were subtle clues that Obi-Wan Kenobi knew her like he had never known someone else of the opposite sex – she wasn't a Jedi to him, nor was she just a friend. She was a _woman_ , and he knew it. And he had liked it.

She wasn't daft. No man could watch a woman shed so many clothes during a duel and not look twice – he was, after all, no god. He was a hot-blooded man just as the next was, and she had noticed the small looks, the uncomfortable bristle when she pinned him on the floor beneath her in hand-to-hand spars; the way their bodies meshed together perfectly as he perfected her form in balance trainings and force-ability. The lingering of his hands on hers during meditations; the way he instantly engaged when she read poetry. To any other person who didn't know him it was perhaps unseen, but to her – it was relevant and it was clear.

They, however, hadn't spoken of it. Of any of it.

And now, he was walking away after the months of foundation that they had built. He was walking away back to the war, back to the Jedi – back to the way things were. He was leaving her behind as a memoir of a much-needed reprieve and perhaps a much needed rejuvenation. She would be nothing more to him than an accomplishment now, as she knew when he went back to war and began to refocus his efforts that she would fade away out of his mind in her absence. The Jedi in him would take over, and reason would get the better of him and convince him that he had been wrong and had staggered away from the beaten path. The man in him would be lost.

What she had built in him would be gone.

And now, as she dashed down the steps of the Temple and into the gardens their friendship had known so well, she herself was gone out of reason. Her mind was left in the lecture room, where he had said his good-byes to the class and dismissed them; and looked on her with such grief and desire that it had killed her. She was almost certain now the Jedi within her had died under his stare, right there in that lecture hall. She had died and had followed him; her reason and the Code thrown out that blasted proverbial window.

The Coruscant morning was crisp and quiet – the Temple's activity had yet to rise in the early beginnings of the morning, where so much would birth into the day. Where so much would die into the night. Her eyes were burning with tears now; her heart screaming in beat with her running. Her legs pushed hard like they never had before – as if the monsters of her past were chasing her, the monsters of the originality of things – the way things would become if he left nipped at her heels. She was choking on air now, all the techniques of breathing lost to her in her desperate attempt to catch up to the only thing that had ever truly been hers.

"Master Kenobi!" Her voice cracked this time, it breaking under the straining of her pounding pulse. She began to slow, him a few yards ahead of her; heading into the Alderaanian roses where they had first begun this adventure together. She was sure her heart was slipping out of her ribcage and into her knees now, as she watched his back to her as if it were a brick wall. She stopped all together, watching him go, and reached out a hand, hanging her timbre cracked again, this time it dropping into a whisper.

"...Obi-Wan."

He stopped.

For a moment she had thought he would came her raging mad, but when he didn't move, she realized that it had been the first time his given name had slipped off her tongue. It was as foreignly delicious on her own tongue that it had been in her mind – it _tasted_ sweet, saying it. There was a strength in the name she had never before noticed in the thinkings and ponderings of her own self. She, with her hand still extended and head bowed, reached out to him into the force in such a way she had never done before: she reached for his very heart, his very being.

The force moved; pounded like a wave through her body, and threw her in a thousand different directions as she felt its connection with him. She didn't open her eyes, nor move any muscle. She chanced breathing, and found it impossible – her entire body was cemented, rigid in place as she navigated this newfound level of the force she had never known before. She felt the force around him – that same familiar strength and peace, and thrust herself into it –

-and crashed through, like a bombardment.

His acceptance of her had been unanticipated, and had rocked her in the force. She staggerd to stand as she felt him welcome her; felt the force spur her forward in her attempt to connect with him. It licked up every trace of breath she had in her lungs and forced her to come up for air. She gasped in a breath and staggered forward again as he came rushing towards her in his own strength in the force, washing over her in waves and power she had never before witnessed. She found herself powerless to his advances, but struggled to stay standing nonetheless. She could feel herself begin to intertwine with him and creep into the corners of him that the Jedi had hidden away; she felt him open those places to her and beckon her inside. Her head began to swim as he called her name in the force, his voice floating around her and finally thrusting itself into the pit of her stomach so forcefully that she gasped, staggered forward, and savagely hit the ground on her knees, crippled.

A burning nestled itself on her skin and savagely possessed every possible part of her body in ways and in feeling she had never discovered. Parts of herself came alive; her heart flared and then soured, her knees turned to some type of gelatin substance. She felt her breathing quick and her heart kick into high gear. Her body began to tremble as his presence ravaged her core – and she let out a screaming sob and doubled over when he wrapped himself around her heart. She gasped and threw out an arm to catch herself from falling face-first into the stone of the garden courtyard.

Obi-Wan released her then, and the connection was broken. She gasped again, moaning at the sudden pain shooting through her body. The lightheadedness that accompanied the connection's exit was unexpected and severe – she couldn't see straight, as the world spun in a kaleidoscope of colors and shapes. She picked up her breathing, trying to reacquaint herself with its techniques, and put a shaking hand to her chest – she felt herself trembling, her heart quaking. An odd sense of desire and want pitted itself in her ribcage, and she looked up when every part of her body began to scream.

He was approaching her, quickly. So quickly, that he was at her side in a breath. The world was still swaying and she couldn't make out a decent picture of him to save her own soul if it had been required of her. He knew this, and took her hand in his own and pulled her close, wrapping his other arm around her shoulder. She somehow collided with what she assumed was his chest and managed to wrap her arm around his torso. Her nostrils filled with his familiar scent, which was mixed with the aroma of the gardens. He was rigid and strong, like a pillar of power. He sat motionless with her in his arms until her vision began to clear and the lightheadedness passed. Only once her body began to settle from the connection did she pull back from him and look up into his face. She hadn't noticed she was covered in a sheen coat of sweat until she felt her curls plastered to the side of her cheek where she'd been resting against his chest.

She swallowed thickly, her throat closing off. What was she to say to him, now? He had put himself upon her in the force and opened a connection with her that had only been in the rumors of the Council – never before had a force connection built solely on sexual attraction been established before within the Jedi. They both knew it, as the evidence was written all over his face. It was oddly satisfying and safe. She swallowed again, then broke their gaze to look at her hand in his for a brief moment. He too did the same, and slowly interlaced their fingers. She looked back up to him carefully.

"I know," he stated calmly, "I have known for a long time."

Their connection and allowed him to sense her thoughts and feelings, and he had. His tender eyes scanned hers momentarily before he took his other hand and moved aside a curl that had managed to fall in her face. He hovered over her, even still on their knees, and his fingertip moved along her temple and down her cheek to come to a rest at her chin, where he took it graciously between his fingers and tipped it up. She felt speechless and overcome all at once, and she began to shake again under his stare. While she had begun to shake she had not feared him for a moment – instead, she welcomed him, and relished in every one of his movements, marking them in her mind for a later date, never to forget a one.

They were silent a long time, him just staring into her eyes, and her into his. She found a piece of him – a pool of him – that she had never seen before. She assumed that this was the Obi-Wan Kenobi that the Jedi had killed; that the Jedi had forced into confinement. This was the raw emotion and passion that every Jedi lacked and betrayed. This was _him_ , unleashed, without barriers. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever witnessed.

A smile pulled at the corner of his lips. "You are perhaps the most stunning thing I have ever witnessed," his breath fell over her face and snatched away her resolve. His statement fell away as a Coruscant breeze brought to life their surroundings. She didn't know what to say – didn't know what to think. So many had begun swirling through her –her lips began to burn, so close to him. She thought for sure he would kiss her – she could feel him playing the idea through his mind, thinking about it in the force. It was present and incoming.

Surprisingly, she was able to compose an intelligible statement. "It's forbidden," she breathed, "we'll be exiled –"

-he silenced her with a sharp pull back of her head, and pressed his lips against her own. The thought vanished instantly from her mind. He moved his lips carefully along her own, navigating a new territory that he had never been prepared to handle, and he positioned himself over her on his knees, his cloak now almost entirely enveloping them both. His warmth and taste sparked a new arrival of emotions inside of her, first starting in the chest and spreading down into her stomach, only to anchor in the pit of her very core. She moved her hand to his face and ran her fingertips along his beard, and his hand cupped around her cheek and his fingers played with the curls behind her ears. The sounds of the world, one by one, slipped away; replaced instead by the sound of his movements and his heartbeat, which she could so clearly hear and understand.

And then, he did the unexpected – he thrust his tongue into her mouth and traced her lower lip in a rush. The sensation triggered a bodily response from her, one that arched her back and elicited a tiny gasp of surprise from her throat. She pulled away suddenly, so overcome with the sensation that he had to swiftly move his hand to her waist to keep her where she was. She began to relax once he retracted his tongue from her mouth, and he parted from her in a breath, his lips still hovering over her own temptingly. They both began to renavigate the workings of breathing, and her eyes moved to his lips again before finding his own again. "- you kissed me," she whispered low.

He chuckled and played with the hair behind her ear again, "That I did," his eyes fell from her own to her lips as well, as if contemplating the action again, "and I am inclined to do so again."

Her eyes widened at him, "It's forbidden, Obi-Wan –" long gone were the days of him being Master Kenobi to her now – he was Obi-Wan, her equal; _hers._ They had both crossed the diametrically opposed line set forth before them from birth – and there was no going back now, as she read it in his eyes. "- The Council will exile us both."

He smiled at her and scanned her eyes again, reaching to wrap a curl around his finger, "If we both believed that, we would not be where we are at this moment." He cupped her cheek in his hand again, and brushed his thumb over her lips delicately, "This is an act of the force, my darling," he chuckled now, "and one cannot deny the act of force. As I have taught you, and as you have taught me."

She closed her eyes and wrapped her hand around his wrist, feeling every part of him in ways tat she had never before experienced. She inhaled a deep breath and nodded slowly, opening her eyes again to find him. "How fortunate I am to have had such a teacher as you, Master," her voice quaked at the mention of his superiority of her in the force.

"And how fortunate I am as to have a student such as yourself, my dear student."

She was again lost unto him, as he kissed her yet again in every new way imaginable.

* * *

 **Diametrically opposed:** Two points directly opposite each other on a circle or sphere.

 **Summary:** The Master and student are a diametrically opposed dynamic. There are many standards and virtues that would bring them together, as well as principles that would keep them apart. In most circles of the Jedi, that is. But, she was his student in more than one way - and she was his Master, in many more ways than that. [Kenobi/OC].


	2. Broken Orthodox

He watched her with the careful intensity one would perhaps recognize in that of a predator, but with a curiosity and anxiety that betrayed his title of Jedi Master. His breathing, heavy even in pristine physical health, accompanied the sweat dripping off the beard and onto the sleek floors of the Temple training grounds. He stood, unwavering, hand extended in his usual focusing two-finger point, eyes cemented on her form before him.

She, likewise in the vein of breathing hard, scoured him with her eyes. Reading the movements of a Jedi was only a feat accomplished by years of practice and disciplined force-training – it did not come naturally to many students, a task to be learned. She could sense his anticipation of her movements in the force, despite his desperate attempts to mask it. They stood, adjacent from one another, still – watching, anticipating. Her muscles were burning as she stood poised in a basic defense position, chest rising and falling with each attempt to move air into her lungs. The air about them was heavy with anticipation, waiting for the strike. It was so thick with a desirable tension that it caused her bones to ache.

It had been weeks since she'd sparred last with Obi-Wan Kenobi upon his departure from the Temple. He'd been stationed back to his _Open Circle Fleet_ with Anakin Skywalker, his former padawan, almost twelve weeks previous. They'd been everywhere in the Outer Rim it seemed – everywhere across the stars. Everywhere _but_ here, at the Temple on Coruscant; where they – _he –_ belonged.

And, what was more, after her desperate loss of reason and pursuit of him that day in the gardens, things had never really remained the same for either of them. He was no longer her Master – no longer the Jedi assigned to prepare her for the war; the mentor sent to prepare the coming Knights and advise them. He was Obi-Wan Kenobi – _hers._ Her secret and her passion; her love and her guilt all rolled into a delightfully tasteful package. He was truly the embodiment of everything she had ever desired – every ounce of him promised her something new each time she laid eyes on him. He was never the same man twice; never the same in the force or in rhetoric or in promise. An enigma, on all counts.

Their parting had been the most of tragedies. After he had kissed her in the gardens and wrapped himself around her in the force she had never been the same person, and she knew he had not. The kiss had opened a floodgate of new emotions and sent both of them to their undoings: from there, they were a hopeless cause entangled in the workings of both romance and dedication.

Gone were the naiveté ways of the young lady force-user in her; the Jedi whom knew nothing of passion and attachment. She had changed into a stronger person – a stronger and more dedicated Jedi. She had flung herself into her duties, partially to become the Jedi he knew she was; mostly to keep the aching reminders of his presence at bay in his absence.

And, to her surprise, her efforts had paid off. She had excellent in her tasks and had gained the attention of the Council – so much so to gain praise from Plo Koon, and also Yoda and Mace Windu. They had praised her efforts and her responsibility; had taken notice of her genuine pursuit of the force. It had earned her marks with them, to be certain.

As well as a chance to take part in the workings of the war.

Her first assignment had been to oversee to the maintenance of Master Plo Koon's flagship while he was on Coruscant for reassignment. It had been a most honorable and exhilarating charge – and she had seen to it with every breath in her being. She had been asked for her professional opinion on the craft's structure, all the while wondering if Plo had had his hand in the endeavor. Upon his deployment, he had put in a good word for her to the Council and had taken her suggestions to heart and seen them to fruition.

From there, it had only begun. Within weeks she had been assigned to training padawan's and conducting research to the utmost importance of the war – had been commissioned to relay sensitive materials to not only Plo Koon and other Jedi, but Obi-Wan as well. Her holocalls to his flagship had been nothing but professional and concise to the wandering eyes, but to them both it had been so much more: she could see the pride in his eyes even being lightyears away.

To see the pride in his eyes had been enough to shatter her and remake her soul. She had never so much wanted the admiration of any one human being before as she did that of Obi-Wan – she had not craved the affections of anything in her years before having kissed him in the gardens. She often walked the gardens and read from his selections of Twi'leki poetry to ease the pain of his absence – if not reacquaint herself with the foundations of their relationship all over again.

She now belonged to him, she realized. Never before had the waters of the Jedi been so treacherously crossed in ways such as this – this idea of belonging to something other than the Order. But, try as she would, she could not deny the feelings she had had for Obi-Wan Kenobi since having first laid eyes on him: she had known then that he was an extraordinary person, and that he would change her life. However, she hadn't known she would develop such strong feelings for him – such feelings driving her to the point of self-sacrifice at his feet, of giving up herself for him. Of respecting him on an entirely new level and knowing he felt the same way. She had never dreamed that she, a most dedicated Jedi and he, a passionate master of the force would ever stretch the limited boundaries of the Jedi Code. She had never asked to be different – only better. But, she had been different – from the very start of it all. _He_ had been different.

It was an act of the force, as he'd promised her that day in the gardens before he'd gone; after he'd kissed her so delectably. He had promised her that upon his return they would navigate these waters together to find a way to make this right and proper; to do this confession of love properly. While he had not used the word, she had seen it in his eyes and etched across his face: he _loved_ her, just as much as she loved him. An idea so diametrically opposed to everything the Jedi stood for but at the same time so parallel to everything it was. She was fully ready to lay her life down for this man, and she knew in her heart he would do so the same. How could something so pure and so beautiful be denied any human being, Jedi or not? How could such a divine feeling be absent from the light?

It couldn't be, she reasoned. It was the ignorance of the Jedi that kept this emotion away – their own insecurities and fear. It was a precaution against those who would use such emotion at a disadvantage; those who would pursue greed and power instead of true, unadulterated love. She culminated that the Jedi refused such emotion for the betterment of the whole, at least in their minds – but did they know what they were missing? Did they know what they were denying the Jedi?

She doubted it. If they did know, then they were cruel and heartless people; everything opposite of what she knew of the Jedi Council. If they had any idea the feelings that were embedded inside of her for one person, then they could not in any sane way be so against attachment. No being could be. Her thoughts were at risk, however, against the Council – both her and Obi-Wan would be exiled from the Jedi if they knew of their attachment.

Which, she was thankful Obi-Wan so was acclaimed in the force and so masterful. She could only hope to glean such understanding of it from him in their time together – she would love for nothing more to spend her days studying beneath him and gleaning his wisdoms in the force. Even so far apart could she feel him in the force as he meditated – she could hear his voice in her dreams and feel his connection through the force. It seized her in new ways each and every time; an adventure she wanted nothing more than to fall in and remain in.

However, their deception came at its costs. She could not shake the inevitable guilt that penetrated her soul by conveying such emotions in her heart. The Jedi in her was lost in the wake of this newfound emotion – while it grew, she could also feel it die. The truthfulness the Jedi clung to so tightly was slipping from her grasp in an aching war between emotion and duty. She was slowly losing control of her ability to remain focused in her meditations, as often her thoughts drifted to the day in the gardens and the day in the future when Obi-Wan would wrap his arms around her and kiss her all over again.

And while her tenacity for growth expounded, her focus was cloudy. Though the Council saw a bright and shining Jedi Knight, she felt the part of the wolf in sheeps clothing as she deceived them before their very eyes. She had briefly wondered how such a powerful group of Jedi could be blind to see the love in her eyes, but reasoned that if they truly weren't looking than they wouldn't see it. If they were under the pretense that she had abandoned all hope of attachments b by becoming a Jedi in the first place, they had nothing to suspect nor concern themselves with. She had never had the opportunity to know what attachment felt like in her life before Obi-Wan, so it was a concept lost to the Council and dismissed abruptly.

But, did that make it right? Did it make it right for her to continue deceiving the Council? Her gut pitted into her feet and she steeled herself for the answer she already knew was planted inside of her heart – no, it wasn't right. It was not right to deceive her Masters and those she so desperately admired – but, it was also wrong to deny herself the love she felt for Obi-Wan Kenobi as well. The mere thought of her abandoning him left knife wounds across her heart, as if stabbed repeatedly and left to wither and die. She couldn't imagine herself without his love and desire – couldn't imagine herself without _desiring_ and _loving_ that man. It all was so blind and cloudy in the force.

 _If Obi-Wan was right, and this is of the force – it will work itself out,_ she told herself over and over again every time the thoughts bombarded her like crashing waves on a shore.

And now, those thoughts paraded around her mind like a waving banner, blinding her focus and her ability to read the man she had been so desperately pining after in these twelve weeks apart. So blinded was she that she didn't prepare for his striking blow and took a sharp blow to the chest, not having seen him shift his weight and swing his leg around.

The heel of his boot collided solidly with the training armor secured on her chest and sent her flying backwards a good five or six feet, until her shoulders slammed into one of the magnificent stone pillars of the Temple's training grounds. She sharply hit the floor, her head cracking against the pillar. Blackness danced before her eyes, and the training saber she'd been using had long since left her grasp, sitting motionlessly and abandoned a good twelve feet from her. Her chest burned with the traces of the impact left by him, and she winced.

He panicked, and dropped his training saber as soon as he'd realized what had happened, and crossed the distance between them in three strong, quick strides. He fell to a knee beside her and unbuckled the armor from her body, discarded it to the side rashly. She could already feel a bruise begin to form on her breastbone, and coughed as she tried to replenish the air in her chest.

Obi-Wan was all jitters now, and she regretted her display almost immediately. The pain and apology in his eyes was enough to break her, and he pushed aside one of her curls to tuck it behind her ear, taking his fingers to lift her chin to stare him right in the eye. He searched her own carefully, finding traces of her condition and marking them in the back of his mind. She could see his concern mount, traces left behind in the blanched whiteness of his skin, now devoid of any type of color. Sweat trickle down his temple, and his eyes broke from hers, scanning her body.

The shock in his voice was laced with apology. "I'm sorry," he said hastily, "I was sure you'd deflect or counterstrike – are you alright?" His hand came to rest on her cheek, forming to the outline of her face, his thumb stroking her cheekbone tenderly. She nodded furiously, her chest still burning, "Say something, would you?"

She croaked out a reply, "I'm alright," her voice was scratchy and low-pitched, burning returning to her chest again. She coughed and put a hand to her chest, inhaling a sharp breath. "I think you just knocked the wind out of me,"

His brow frumpled, "I did a lot more than that, I'm afraid," he took her hand and brushed his thumb over her knuckles, "that was a strong kick to take in training armor."

She interlaced their fingers and nodded, shifting to begin to stand, "It wouldn't have been so bad if I'd deflected," she coughed again, and he intercepted her quickly when she slipped, "I'm okay."

"You most certainly aren't," he chastised her softly, "I'm taking you to see Vokara for an assessment –" Once she found her feet and had stopped swaying, she grabbed his wrist with her hand and fell against the pillar, the burning heat in her chest beginning to subside. It fell almost into a rhythm with the beating of her heart.

He stopped, locked eyes with her, and shifted to stand fully in front of her. She took her other hand and ran her fingers through his beard, her nails tenderly dragging across his skin. A small smiled pulled at her lips and she shook her head, "No," she chuckled, and moved his hand to her waist, "stay here, with me. Let me catch my breath," She let her hand fall from the hair of his beard and trace the rippling muscle of his arm and allowed it to move to his chest. "It'll be along any minute now."

He stood stock still, like a pillar of cemented stone power that wouldn't be moved. She could see the apprehension rise in his eyes as her fingertips traced the muscle of his chest beneath his own armor. Whatever apprehension in his eyes began to fade when she edged him closer, to fill the mold of her body, until finally his arm securely wrapped around her waist. Heat washed through her body as the distance between them closed and rattled her bones, the pain of her chest skyrocketing to new levels before again falling into pace with her heartbeat. His closeness began to overwhelm her senses until ever nerve was tight and tingling with emotion.

The smile that twisted his beard was dismantling. "You're a dangerous force," he chortled, moving aside another one of her fallen curls with a wisp of his hand. His expression suddenly turned serious, "whenever you're not so easily defeated in a sparring match." Her mouth fell open in mock surprise at him, and she playfully socked his shoulder.

This elicited another chuckle from him and a smile. "I've missed you," he said softly, lifting a hand and brushing his fingertips over her lips. Her eyes fluttered closed and she tipped her head back in relished delight at his touch. "I have missed you so much."

She let out a lingering breath and moaned delightfully, "I've missed you too," she conceded, opening her eyes to look into his own. He met her there with a tenderness that alarmed her at first, but soothed her concerns immediately with a fleck of playful intensity. "whenever you're not brutally knocking me down in a sparring match."

This broke them both into a fit of laughter, and he met their foreheads together and his chuckle faded into his chest, deep and low until it was gone in a strong exhale. She broke the silence between them, "I don't want you to go again."

She felt him bristle. "I know," he sighed heavily, "but I must. I'm afraid the war doesn't stop outside these walls," he pulled back to stare into her eyes again, "despite how much I want it to." He took a step back from her and took her hand, pulled it to his lips, and left a gentle kiss on it. She watched him carefully as he released her hand and moved to intercept her training saber.

He stooped, picked it up, and then approached her again, extending it to her. A goofy smile twisted his beard this time, "Do you think you can handle another go, or are you finished?"

She snatched it from him, lifted her chin playfully, and moved towards the training circle again. "Of course I can do another," she sounded purposefully insulted, "don't be so quick to kick me down next time and you'll see I can match you strike for strike."

His brow lifted in a surprised expression, "I see I didn't manage to knock your pride off its pedestal," she smiled at him and poised herself in the circle, lightsaber brought up close to her right ear, left hand extended before her in a steadying gesture. He extended a hand and called his own saber to him through the force, activating the blade. "Are you ready?."

She gave him a smirk, "Are _you_ ready, Master Kenobi?" She cajoled him now, and his eyes flecked with a dark hint of playfulness and desire.

He broke eye contact and scanned her body with his eyes. Playfully appalled, she threw herself at him, bringing her saber in a wide-arching swing, only to have him do the same and take half a step back to meet her blow. Their sabers collided, bounced off one another, and she spun away from him. She came around sharply, arching again, and their sabers collided low this time, braced against one another, her body half twisted.

He patronized her now. "Very good," his lips upturned in a sarcastic smirk. She frowned at him, grunted, and broke the contact sharply, pushing her hands down. She threw herself into a quick backflip, moved away from him, and landed in a low defensive posture, eyeing him carefully. He laughed at her.

She allowed him a small smile, "Don't be shy," she winked at him, "that can't be all that you have." She followed him as he circled her in a half-moon, and then once three-quarters behind her, came at her swiftly. She, however, pivoted, and rolled out of his way.

Without warning, he came at her again in a barrage of quick strikes, and she matched his movements, timing them carefully and sensing their progress through the force. Her chest burned now, the bruise well since having formed in the deep tissues of her skin, and finally spun away from him. He staggered forward, and came around swiftly. He was sweating again, and reached for the hem of his shift, then lifted it away over his head. She froze.

She watched him nervously, as he shed the shirt and tossed it well outside their training circle. Every piece of her was now alive with newfound fire to the point where she thought she would incinerate where she stood. She blinked, taking in his chest now, dumbfounded again by never having seen a man's chest before. She felt her throat constrict and tighten, and her mouth dried. The smirk on his face hinted that he'd done it on purpose, to disarm her.

"Still doing alright, darling?" His patronizing tone was incredulous – almost insufferable given her current state. Even beside herself she couldn't without a sneering glare at him, which earned her another bout of laughter from him. "We may stop, if you'd like."

"No," she inserted quickly, rising out of her pose. She lowered her defense and deactivated her blade, then clipped the hilt to her belt. She stepped away from him and turned, and without thinking, she began to lift her own tunic over her head, until it was well away from her body and halfway through the air. It landed to the floor silently, and she couldn't withhold the burning breaths threatening to escape her throat. She briefly considered what she'd done, but didn't think twice about it again when she spun around a bit quickly to face him in nothing more than her chest wrapping.

His eyes widened at her, and she saw him first flush red and then blanch, even from across the training ring. Her body tensed again, her hands tingling, as every nerve found a new level of heated tension. She was breathing hard again, this time out of nervousness instead of exertion. She swallowed, their eyes locked, neither of them daring to break the stare and look beyond the inevitable. She could feel the dynamic between them thicken; break away to a new level. It shifted before her very eyes – and, from what she could tell, he saw it to. She guessed he'd never seen anything more than a woman's outline within a tunic, given their vows of chastity, just as she'd never seen a man's chest.

A sudden wave of uncertainty floated over her, and a newfound exposure hit her like a sharp blow to the gut. She was suddenly very aware that she was half naked before Obi-Wan Kenobi in the Jedi Temple, and a wave of nausea hit her. She panicked, hitched in a breath, and brought her right arm up to cover her, looking away from him; feet cemented to the floor. Heat dashed up her neck and exploded onto her face, and she wrapped her other arm around her torso, suddenly aware he could see all the imperfections of her body, and her uncertainties. It was a vain attempt to cover what she'd already uncovered.

She stood there, contemplating herself, until suddenly she noticed he was coming towards her, saber deactivated and in hand. She gave him a cautious side look, as if to tell him to stop, but if he knew what she was asking he didn't pay it any mind. Instead he kept coming, until he was mere feet from her, and she took a precautionary step back from him. His eyes broke away from her own and moved down her body, and she could see him memorize every detail. She swallowed thickly again, her tongue feeling like cotton, and she whirled around quickly, back to him now.

"I'm sorry," she uttered breathlessly, digging her nails into the flesh of her shoulder, "this was wrong, and I –" she hitched a quick, uneasy breath. The words had seemed coherent in her brain, but now she realized he hadn't said anything to condemn her actions and now they sounded flooded and mottled coming from her mouth.

She could feel the heat of his stare, now. He stepped forward again, and she watched his shadow fall over her until she could feel the heat radiating off his body against her own skin. She was instantly unnerved by his closeness, and tensed, closing her eyes. She inhaled shakily, bit her lower lip, and tried not to focus on his warm breath cascading down her spine and sending and sending ripples through her resolve. She hoped she hadn't begun to tremble, and opened her mouth to speak –

-but instead the back of his hand found her arm and he traced her skin with his own, until his hand cupped around her shoulder and his fingers fell down her back in a gentleness she didn't know could exist in a man's hands. His touch sent goose-bumps immediately down her body and threatened to buckle her knees, but to her surprise she was unwavering. With a gentle pull of her shoulder backwards, he stepped into her, and the form of her body molded against his beautifully, his other arm moving to her other shoulder to brush away her hand carelessly. It fell away as if it were never an extension of her body in the first place.

"You are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen," he said, echoing the statement that hadn't failed to engrain itself in her mind twelve weeks previous, "and do not be sorry for it." The soft words cascaded down her shoulder in a warm breath, his beard tickling the supple skin of her collarbone. In a breath he nuzzled his face against her skin, and planting a soft kiss to the nape of her neck. She almost crumbled, and fell fully against his chest, letting her head fall back against his pecks. Her eyes floated closed and she moaned only slightly in ways that she had never fully comprehended as he kissed a trail down her shoulder.

She lifted a hand and her fingers found his hair, and she entwisted them in the auburn strands, feeling herself falling so far into his ministrations that she was sure there was no return. His other arm wrapped around her torso, his fingertips grazing over the skin of her abdomen, not stopping to notice the imperfections of her skin, nor caring. Once he had finished kissing her shoulder, he spun her to face him. He cradled her face in his hands and held her there for a brief moment, before she found herself dumbfoundedly unable to contain her words.

"I love you," she ministered in a whisper, her eyes fluttering closed again. She swallowed thickly again and released a shaky breath. She felt tears well up in her eyes and tried to bat them away with her lashes, but instead they spilled over and traced a glossy trail down her cheeks. She lifted her hands to his wrist and tipped her head in his hands, his own eyes brimming with tears. "I am so sorry that I love you," she felt her soul break as the years of the Jedi inside of them both screamed every form of protest imaginable. Her voice cracked into a sob, "I am so sorry."

He said nothing for a long moment, contemplating her words. They hung on the air like a thick blanket, and she felt herself begin to dismantle before him. They heat between their bodies was almost inconceivable. She wanted nothing more than to hold every part of him and know each ounce of his being; to let her hands explore the wonder of his finely tuned physique. She, however, was rock solid as he tipped her head back, his fingers enmeshing with the curls behind her ears and down her neck. Without blinking, he managed to remove the clip from her hair and toss it aside, her brown curls spilling down her shoulders and back.

"How unfortunate it is that I have the love of a woman as powerful as you," his voice floated over her like a hazy breeze, and she lost herself in his words before he started speaking again, "for even as I am standing here now, a Jedi Master, you dismantle me in ways that I have never before conceived possible." His eyes shifted with her own, "And I am not the least bit sorry for what I am about to say, despite what every instinct I possess protests," he gulped, "I believe I am in love with you as well, my dear." A small smile pulled at the corner of his lips, "Though I am unsure how it happened."

She gasped, feeling her stomach pitch into her feet. "You…you _are?_ " The disbelief in her voice sounded childish – as if she didn't know, while all along she had. It betrayed her sense of composure, but at this point she was beyond such hopefulness. Her eyes scanned his own for any trace of joking or jest, but one thing she knew about Obi-Wan Kenobi was when he was serious – and he was deadly serious, now.

He smiled at her, "If you had any doubts, you are more foolish than I thought."

She smiled at him in return, feeling a rush of peace cascade through her. She relaxed in his hands, his thumb tracing her skin lightly still. She wrapped one of her arms around his neck, the other she placed on his chest and let her fingertips wander of his skin, feeling newly empowered with their shard confession. She broke their stare and looked to the toned flesh of his chest, allowing her thoughts to wander only briefly before she looked back up at him. The warmth of their bodies pressed together tightened her skin in recognizable places beneath her wrappings, suddenly feeling cumbersome, but extremely necessary.

She was without thought for a moment, and then spoke. "Marry me," she blurted, unable to fully comprehend what she was thinking at the moment. It was only until she pulled her eyes to look back up at him that she felt the danger of her own words, "Let me love you in the most selfless way and marry me," he blinked, comprehending her statement, "I can think of no other way to love you any more than that."

He said nothing for a long moment, just staring at her, and finally he nodded, then lowered his head to kiss her. He kissed her sweetly, but when she gave a sigh and reached up on tip-toes to wrap her arms around his neck, he delved deeper and allowed his tongue to move along her lips. His hands fell away from her face and down her arms, until his hands rested on her hips and pulled her forward into him.

His beard tickled her lips as he pulled away and he inhaled a deep breath before releasing it. She ran her fingers through the air along his neck and he groaned slightly, nodding again, "Yes," he breathed, then smothered her again in another kiss that left her feeling faint and rendered her knees back into gelatin. He pulled back again and she fell back to the flats of her feet. "Yes. I will."

A smile painted onto her lips slowly, and he lowered his head to touch her forehead with his again. They broke into a fit of chuckles and giggles, and she melted farther into the mold of his body, if possible. "A most unorthodox proposal," he interjected between their laughter.

She chastely kissed him again and let her hand fall into place along his bearded jaw again. "I never said I was orthodox, Obi-Wan."

He flashed a smile at her. "I never presumed you were."

She kissed him again, perhaps deeper than she ever had before.

* * *

 **Summary:** The dynamic of student and Master now broken, a student of the force contemplates her decisions about love for a Jedi Master she's forbidden to have - breaking any orthodox she's said to have possessed in the meantime. [Sequel to Diametrically Opposed]. [Kenobi/OC]. __


	3. Saber of Light

_The flash of playfulness in his eyes was enough to stop her heart and forever seize it in an abnormal thud._

 _He deflected an array of blaster bolts with his lightsaber as if it were an extension of his own arm, gracefully moving through the force; forever its master. The circle of Serperatists dared to move in closer around them, causing them both to take half a step back into one another, their backs colliding solidly._

 _She was sweating bullets, and her body quaked with adrenaline and movement within the force. She could feel her heartbeat in her throat; could feel the tension of his muscles even though her armor._

 _Then, a well aimed blast rocketed towards her, and he pivoted away as she dropped her lightsaber to duck into a roll. The weapon rolled away from her, only to be blown to smithereens by a Seperatist droid. She reached for the remainders, but the dead object could be of no use. Turning her attention from it, she realized she was suddenly exposed, and pounced to her knees – raising her hands to force-push a blast away from her and back into the sea of droids. It flattened them instantly, and suddenly there was a hand extended to her. She looked up to find Kenobi giving her a grin, lightsaber in his other hand._

" _I see you've managed to lose your lightsaber," she took his hand and he pulled her to her feet, then gestured with his head to the opening of droids she'd created with her force-push, "how many times must I remind you to keep track of it?"_

 _She gave him a sarcastic roll of her eyes, "I guess you get to say I told you so."_

" _I did, for the record."_

 _He tightened his grip on her hand and she wrapped her arms around his, watching every direction carefully. He deflected blasts as they edged towards the opening, her heart pounding in her ears. She felt her throat constrict from the Geonosian sands. He whirled around and she released his arm to force-push a group of approaching droids back. He fumbled for her hands and yanked her around, powering down the lightsaber and jerked her towards the opening in a full-out run._

" _Is it always this fun with you?" She yelled above the noise._

 _He laughed, "Only when I have friends along!"_

 _He pulled her behind a rock formation and they crouched, listening to the metallic clanging of the marching droids, along with the barrage of blasterfire firing over their heads. She kept low, him positioning himself slightly over her to shield her. She blinked away the dust threatening her eyes and looked up at him. He grabbed for his saber and powered it up, smirking at her._

" _A lightsaber would be nice,"_

" _Don't start with me, Kenobi."_

 _His eyes twinkled. "You're actually doing very well for your first assignment."_

" _Patronizing me won't get you anywhere, you know. And it certainly won't get us out of this mess."_

 _He winked at her. "No, I'm afraid you'll need a lightsaber for that, my dear."_

* * *

The sound of parts raining to the floor shook her from the memory, jarring her back from her meditations almost as swiftly as she'd entered them.

Letting out a groan of frustration, she let her head fall back against the wall and took in a deep sigh. The lightsaber parts sat before her in a scattered mess, the crystal sitting motionless in her lap yet again – for the third time, the saber remained dismantled and incomplete.

She ran her fingers through her hair and stared at the object of her misgivings. Ever since that horrific mission on Geonosis – her first mission in the war – she'd been without a lightsaber, and she'd only just recently arrived back from her journey to find another crystal. It had taken her four days to wander the caves of Illum and find her saber, all the while battling her own shortcomings and emotions inside the ancient caves of those Jedi before her.

It was a simple task, really. Building lightsabers were tasks assigned to even padawans at the youngest stage of their trainings; typically masters never really needed to construct them again in their lifetime, given that Jedi usually never really needed to create another. A much wiser and more experienced Jedi could keep their sabers for a lifetime without having to worry about it – Jedi that were practiced and efficient in their possession of such elegant weaponry.

But with lightsaber construction came its difficulties – it required a raw and pure mingling with the force, she remembered. A new, simple outlook on the force was what constructed a lightsaber; not the intricacies and inner workings of complication that Knights and Masters found within it. It was why lightsaber's were usually crafted by padawans and younger Jedi – they had a pure and uncomplicated understanding of the force and did not befuddle its workings like that of more accomplished users. It was a raw and powerful connection that required dedication and a simplicity which was so often lost to the older: a childlike faith and aspiration.

It should not have even taken her four days to find the crystal. She reasoned it took her so long because she was mostly battling with her own emotions, as she had been these few months in the wake of the "event". Clothed deeply in the darkness of her secret engagement to Obi-Wan Kenobi, she had found herself at odds with her meditations and herself – odds that she had never before experienced as a Jedi. She'd begun to question a lot about herself and the Order at each dawning of a new day, and as the war continued to drag on and complicate further, she began to question the involvement of the Jedi as well. So many were falling every hour – lives, brought to an abrupt and screaming halt at the hands of war no one truly understood. Clones, civilians, Jedi – people were dying at the hands of politics and of democracy, and she had begun to wonder if it was even worth it in the first place. Peacekeepers had no business in a war of diplomacy, ties to the Republic or not. Had they failed in their job as the war was a result of such efforts? She had feared the worst, but had consoled herself – the Jedi were Peacekeepers, not gods.

She had also faced the fears she'd long since harbored since her fist confession of love to Obi-Wan that day in the gardens of the Temple. Her fears of inadequacy in being a woman, a Jedi, a soldier. She had feared herself at every turn in the development of their relationship - feared in letting him down, betraying the Jedi, compromising the Republic. They'd already discussed the details of their engagement in depthly before his last deployment – they would not be married without the approval of the Council, which would come at a high and hefty price, they'd both realized. They hadn't discussed much after that: what would happen if they approved, and what would happen if they _didn't_.

Her biggest fear she had encountered in the caves of Illum had been that: the idea that the Council would refuse their plea for marriage. It had never before been considered outside of necessity within the Order. Ki-Adi-Mundi had married to keep his species alive; others for much the same reason or another. Love had never been the grounds for marriage within the Order – attachments were forbidden, on all counts. Attachments lead to greed, which led to selfishness, which led to the dark side. It was against the Jedi to love romantically, but not to love selflessly: to be willing to die in the place of another, or lay yourself down for a cause greater than yourself. Which, to her was much the same thing as the love she felt for Obi-Wan, and he'd reciprocated the idea. But, as her fears in the caves of Illum had shown, the Council did _not_ feel the same.

It was an infuriating precept, the forbiddance of attachment. How could something so pure and beautiful such as this love she felt for Obi-Wan be denied anyone? How could it make anyone _evil_? She had never felt so pure and so _right_ as she did in the wake of loving Obi-Wan Kenobi; she had never felt so complete. Her life as a Jedi had been devoid of color and of emotion and…person. She had never truly discovered who she was in the Order outside of her love for Obi-Wan Kenobi, and as a woman who had an identity now loving a man, she felt herself for the first time as a _woman_ and not just a Jedi. She felt unique, special – individual. Not a sterile, protocol Jedi that followed the Code and took orders and adhered to the movements of the force.

Not all attachments were evil, she surmised. Most weren't. Most attachments stemmed from the heart and the want to love someone other than oneself, to love something other than a loveless Code that could not complete a human being or express emotion back. That could not lay its life down for you like another free-willed human being could. It was when emotion and attachment drove a person to being a power-hungry, selfish being that it was wrong. It was wrong if it was served at the expense of a greater purpose – if it was selfishly taken and achieved. If it drove one to commit evil atrocities, then it was wrong.

The Council was afraid. Afraid of losing its place within the galaxy and the force to human attachment and the fickleness of emotion. It strived for balance for peace – a good development to strive for, but at the cost of human emotion and personality? Was it not what set peoples apart, the ability to love and communicate with other life? The Order was killing the Jedi's ability to relate as human beings and to feel what was meant for people to feel – it was killing their ability to be sentient, _whole_ people. To suffocate and forbid emotion was like to forbid personality, as personality is built on an individual's ability to handle and express emotion. The Council was simply afraid of losing its stability and its balance within the force – and they were unwilling to compromise it at the fickle likings of a person. She reasoned it was easier to forbid than to forgive; easier forbidding than to trust.

She had confronted these things in the caves while searching for her crystal – lost herself in her meditations a few times by journeying far to deep into her own heart and thoughts. Mostly her thoughts bombarded her meditations – no longer were the days where she could simply empty her mind and self, no. The force had changed within her realization, and now simply her meditations were quiet ponderings and whisperings of her thoughts in prayers. Fearing her disconnection with the force, she had talked to Obi-Wan about such developments and had found he too had experienced such a shift – his ability to empty into the force had been compromised: instead they were quiet sessions of reflection and silence. As neither one of them seemed to be lacking in the force, and as no one had seemed to notice, they had determined it was not a wrong development and warranted no worry.

She, for one, had felt lighter as an individual. No longer was the burden of question on her shoulders anymore; no longer the lack of purpose a hole in her gut anymore. She felt put-together and at peace, at balance and rest in her knowing that she was loved for being _her._ She had felt a connection with the force on a new and stronger level – it eased through her now instead of having to be pressed into. It had greatly deepened her understanding and use of it. No longer was it a struggle nor attempt; it came almost as an extension of herself. A fine development indeed, that had not gone unnoticed. The Council had taken notice of her improvements and had praised her for it – so much so that they had sent her on assignment to Geonosis with information for Obi-Wan's squadron of troops.

It had been her first time in battle, and she had relished it more than was probably appropriate for a woman pledged to peace. The adrenaline had laced her blood so thick that it almost left her in a haze; the excitement and uncertainty had cast a tickling anxiety that pushed her forward and challenged her instincts. She was unsure of what would happen on the battlefield and had to rely on her trainings and the movements of the force for survival – all developments not experienced in the quiet halls of the Temple. She had thrived quickly on the field, battling behind soldiers and feeling a new understanding and drive of war – she now _knew_ it and competed with it instead of heard and wondered. A newfound respect had rushed through her as she'd saw bodies fall; a newfound respect and reverence, as well as grief. Whereas before she had grieved the very thought of war, she now grieved its presence and permanence. It was etched forever on the face of worlds and in the eyes of soldiers – of Jedi, and civilians. It left traces that would never be forgotten and could not be matched.

She too had seen a part of Obi-Wan she never would have in the Temple – a dominance and strength that he seemed to shed upon return to Coruscant. He was forever the pillar of power and of thought on the battlefield – his eyes were forever cast with an edgy, uncertain glow that added to his intelligence and his grace. She had seen the shift inside of him; the rise to task and duty that she hadn't before. His maturity and superiority seemed to triple, if possible. His wisdoms and insights were precious information know, sensitive. No longer were they topics of discussions or classroom stories.

His swift possession of her on assignment had been unexpected on all levels. The troops had been surprised he'd taken the Jedi under his protection – rarely was she anywhere without Obi-Wan close by. He kept a close and steady eye on her, presence ever a whisper away from her. It had been unsettling the first few days, as she'd never really experienced such protective possession before. Quickly, however, she fell into such ministrations and found herself longing for the closeness of her former Master.

Forever the Jedi, their relationship did not advance on the assignment. Rarely they ever spoke as the individuals who had professed undying love for the other – only once he had dared to whisper a breath of love in her ear, and even then it had been dangerously exposed to the Clones. It had only been so juvenile the day she'd lost her lightsaber, when he'd been teasing her. Other than that day and the whisper of affection, he had been nothing but the gentleman; nothing but the crude and proper Jedi she hadn't known for so long.

She had quickly discovered in the caves that he was a part of her she had never known before – she had had dreams of him as she'd laid her head to rest; dreams of their life together. Good and bad, but mostly good. She had felt him move in the force towards her in one of her meditations; a hot and strong presence in her heart that she had never before felt from him. Obi-Wan Kenobi had become a part from her without ever having laid a physical hand to her body – at least in the force. Their connection had been present that first time, but it had only deepened in their time apart. She'd feared that it would fade as time away from him grew longer and longer, but she'd been wrong. It would only grow deeper; her fondness for him stronger. It almost became like a sickening pang in her gut, her desperation and worry for him. But, only the caves of Illum did she realize that she was a part of him in a way that she had never known possible.

Also in the caves she had quickly discovered her own fears of losing him – nightmares and visions of horror accompanied her as much as good dreams did. So often she saw him fall in battle that it was as if a thousand blades had been staked in her heart. She felt a raw and harsh pain with each vision of his falling in death – a brutal thrashing of her emotions when she'd held his lifeless body. Her heart had literally pitched in a rageful scream when she'd started awake after a horrific dream of him in a Sith temple, struggling for breath. Of course these had all been dreams, but with each she had felt a piece of her die in the force along with him – a piece of her die in her heart, as well.

And then, after having overcome her shortcomings, she had found her a crystal - a beautiful blue that was elongated and about the size of her ring finger. It was terrifically cut and shone like a star a hue of blue so magnificent that it would rival the very sun. She had plucked it from a small stream running in the caves and had felt its warmth and the pull in the force – it had been her crystal, for her new blade, and it had called to her a name that she had never before felt rush through her very blood: _Kenobi._

She had no other notion to reason other than that it had been an omen – an omen that she _was_ to marry Obi-Wan Kenobi. A desperate hope that the Council would concede the act and give them a blessing, even if half-hearted and unsure. It had felt so beautiful to feel the name run through her body; so beautiful that it had slipped off her tongue and rang through the caves with a resounding song. It had felt _right._ As she'd sat with the crystal in her palms, staring at its elegance, she had felt light – light in the very being of her soul; light as if she'd never felt it before. A pull to the light side so permeating that it swallowed her whole and whisked her away before she had had any attempt at logic. And, she had felt Obi-Wan with her in the caves in the force – felt his smiling laughter and compliance to give her the name she so desperately desired.

That it been four days and three attempts at building her saber – a total of eight days away from the power of a lightsaber. Each time she had sat to construct it in the force she had felt herself disconnect; lost in the memories and visions she'd found in the caves. Since her possession of the crystal she had done nothing other than long for Obi-Wan's presence beside her, suddenly very aware of the ache inside of her heart. She had been eight days away from her love after having spent a long month on Geonosis, so close to him. It was as if he were a drug and she were experiencing withdrawls.

It never got easier, being parted. After their sparring match that had rendered her powerless – the first time she had seen a man's bare chest – she had not seen him for three months; he'd been stationed on Geonosis to begin preparations for a siege on the planet. Their only communications had been through a transferal of data and information on her end – outside communications were not priorities on missions such as these. Blessedly she'd been given the task to oversee the transfer of whatever data and communication needed to be handled to him – she conferred with him sporadically, but not infrequently. Sometimes she got the idea he was just lonely and craved her company, as he'd call for seemingly useless information that she knew he had already fully been aware of.

Then, she'd been stationed with him at the prodding of the Council and had lost her lightsaber, but not her tact. She'd grown as a Jedi, a soldier, and a woman on Geonosis – as well as a friend. She'd begun to understand the Clones as more than just soldiers; they were men with personalities. She'd actually grown rather fond of Commander Cody, the office assigned to Obi-Wan's personal entourage. Not only was he Kenobi's right hand in battle; he was his confidante in a way that she never could be. Their friendship was mutual and strong, as well as understood. As such, she had longed to get to know the man Obi-Wan praised so much, and she'd taken it upon herself to know him, and the others personally. She had not been disappointed.

And now, eight days away had felt like eight eternities.

She groaned and plucked the crystal from her lap, moving it through her fingers carefully. Staring at it would not make him come back sooner, she realized. It would not manifest his presence. It would simply lack being a lightsaber, was what it would do; staring at it like this. Puffing out an exasperated breath, she enclosed the crystal in her fist and drew it to her forehead, letting her head fall back against the sparse walls of her quarters within the Temple.

Her body still ached from the shock of the Geonosis assignment, but not as much as her soul did. She would give her right arm to be back there again beside Obi-Wan and Cody and the Clones; fighting and actually _doing_ something other than pretending to be useful in the efforts against the Seperatists. There, at least, she felt needed and useful instead of an errand boy for a much bigger cause in the galaxy. She swallowed a rough sigh and then opened her eyes, looking to the spewed parts fanned out before her. A hilt, and likewise parts sat dead; awaiting her construction within the force.

 _This isn't that hard,_ she told herself, "not that hard." She rolled her head to look at the door, and pushed herself up off the floor, brushing her hand against her leggings and moving towards it. Perhaps a quick walk to refresh herself would level her head and settled her unsettled nerves.

But, as soon as she came to the door, she knew it wouldn't and turned back around on her heel. She'd already been on two walks around the corridors, as well as a rest in the gardens to read from Obi-Wan's selection of poetry. She had simply been delaying the inevitable and postponing the necessary. She would have to construct this lightsaber one day, and that day was to be this day, regardless of how empty and useless she felt. She sighed, reached her hand to her curls, and ran her fingers partway through the mess that ran down her shoulders and back. She eyed the incomplete project and then sighed, letting her head fall back again and closed her eyes to the ceiling.

She turned, fell to her knees, and focused herself there. She bit her lower lip and breathed in sharply, then exhaled slowly through her nose, letting the quiet permeate her senses. It was so quiet as to threaten her sanity – so quiet from the month she'd spent on Geonosis. She felt her blood began to heat and then exhaled again, slower this time. She began to settle now, her nerves unwinding, and she opened her palm containing the crystal, and felt it warm in her palm.

A lightness suddenly washed over her before a sharp pull jutted itself in her gut. It knocked her back in the force only slightly, peaking her awareness, but she did not move. Instead she let it fester in her core for a few moments as she felt the force begin to control her movements: the crystal rose out of her palm and she listened as the pieces of the lightsaber lifted off the floor in a swift and quiet rattle. Her eyelids fluttering, she almost dared a look at the project, but didn't dare – instead, moved her hand outward as if to touch it, feeling the force surge through her.

And then, she felt a sudden invasion and bombardment in the force rush inside her chest and steal her breath away, and somewhere in the room she felt the sudden warmth of light hit her back, as well as heard a distant, mechanical whine. She gasped and pulled her hand back, feeling the familiar presence and warmth in the force, and the pieces of the lightsaber hit the floor with a clatter. Her eyes whisked open and she suddenly realized she was awash in the shadow of a figure – a broad shouldered figure, whose shadown enveloped her and her lightsaber parts in a dark cloud.

Her heart hitched and her breath caught, and she whirled around quickly on the floor, suddenly possessed. The organs in her body began to melt away when she took in the figure in the doorway, a sudden joy bursting forth in her soul like she had never experienced before. Tears suddenly sprang to her eyes and welled, and she pushed herself off the floor gracefully and stood in his shadow, swallowing thickly. Her body began to quake in newfound ways that both overjoyed and terrified her. She felt herself slowly begin to lose control of her emotions, a sudden sob erupting from her throat, as he stood in the doorway smirking at her; ever a picture of strength and stability. The silence between them was as thick as the tension as she felt the days of emotion and concern and fear rapidly fall away and build all at once.

Then, without a second thought or breath, she threw herself at him and he stepped into the doorway to meet her, arms open to receive her now sobbing form. She flung her arms around his waist and pulled him towards her to close the gap between their bodies, burying her face in his chest to sob. He put a comforting, gloved hand to her head, the other arm wrapped around her waist securely. The familiarity of his wrist armor brushed against her hair, and his armored fingers enmeshed with her curls, the familiar scent of him enveloping her senses. He hadn't even shed his cloak; she'd noticed as her fingers wrapped around the tawdry material.

She stood there in his embrace for a few long moments before he took her face in his hands and tipped her head back to look at her in the eyes. He had a silly smirk on his face, but she noted that his eyes were brimmed with tears as well, ones he would not shed in her presence. She collected her breathing and exhaled shakily, him taking an armored finger to brush away her tears. She tilted her head in his palm and raised a hand to wrap her hand around his wrist, as if to silently ask him not to withdraw his hands.

"My dear girl," he chuckled, "here I thought you would be happy to see me, and yet I'm received with the tears from the saddest eyes I have ever seen," he too tipped his head and gave her a sympathetic – and apologetic – expression. "I'm alive, if that helps your distress."

She smiled at him and chuckled through her snifflings, "I'm so glad you're here," she whispered, closing her eyes. She exhaled a sigh of relief, and it came out shakier than she had anticipated. "I was so worried."

He winked at her teasingly, "You were only gone eight days," he chuckled again, "how much trouble could I possibly get into?" They broke into a fit of chuckles, and he let his hands fall from her face and stepped by her, into the small quarters.

She closed the door with a wave of the force and turned to meet him. He stood before her incomplete project and looked down at it, unmoving. She came up beside him and wrapped her arms around his, resting her head on his shoulder, only to move and wrap her arms around his middle. She kissed his shoulder quickly, and he blinked at the pieces, eyes focused on the glowing crystal.

"I thought you'd have this done," was all he said.

She sighed. "I've been trying," he turned to her, and she reworked her arms around his middle, him smoothing her hair with one hand, the other taking her left hand in his own. He brought it to his lips and pressed a tender kiss to it.

"But?" he pressed.

"But," she sighed again and looked to the pieces, "I've been…distracted. Every time I get focused enough I get sidetracked." She gave him a smile, the tears beginning to settle and dry on her cheeks. She felt a new set begin to brim in her eyes at the depth in his pale-blue ones, "I've been thinking about…us."

He nodded, suddenly solemn. "I know." He let out a sigh and pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her. He bent to place a kiss in her mess of hair, and she let out a sigh, falling into his embrace.

They said nothing a long moment and he pushed her back slightly, then took her chin in his fingers and tipped her head back; bending to kiss her sweetly. She met him on her toes and pressed her palms onto his strong chest and allowed his lips to guide her deeper into their moment. She felt her body strike to life like a match, every part of her suddenly found and awakened under his attention. Her knees buckled.

He let out a soft moan of pleasure and pulled back, breaking apart from her. She felt suddenly small beneath him, noticing the intricate changes in his body that she had missed in his presence on Geonosis – his arms were slightly thicker, chest firmer. She looked at his face and saw that it was dark from Geonosian sunlight; his beard slightly unkept, along with his hair, which had fallen into his eyes. She reached up and brushed it aside, then let her hand fall into place along his jaw, her fingertips lost in his beard.

"I have missed you," she confessed.

"As I gathered," he smiled at her, and she giggled, his eyes taking in the fullness of her face, "and I missed you, as well." She gathered he had missed _this_ more than her presence, as it had not been that long since they'd been parted – and by the warmth emanating off his body, it was a thought not betrayed. "But," he suddenly interjected, then began shrugging off his cloak, gesturing to the floor, "there is time for that later."

He folded to the floor, cross-legged, unexpectedly and folded his cloak over his arm, setting it next to him. He looked up to her and ran his fingers through his hair a few times, and gestured to the spot beside him. She watched him, blankly.

"Come," he said, his tone serious, "this lightsaber isn't going to construct itself." She blinked at him, and he smiled coyly, "and I would be foolish to go into battle with an unarmed woman, much less a Jedi." When she didn't move, he raised his brow, "What's the matter?"

She cocked a hip and crossed her arms, "You've only just returned," she shook her head and gestured with a hand, "and you want to construct a lightsaber? Have you no decency?"

He laughed, "If I had decency, I'm afraid I wouldn't be the man I am today," he chortled now, "Now, my love; sit with me and let us construct your lightsaber. I have to be at a debriefing with the Council shortly, and I would like this to be done before I get to it."

She raised a brow. "You're sounding more and more like a husband each and every minute." She was all teasing seriousness, and a glint of humor caught his eyes and he reached up for her hand, then sharply pulled her down beside him, catching her in his arms before she hit the floor.

"I need to practice sometime," he retorted smoothly, "as I'm quite unfamiliar with the duties of such a responsibility."

She rolled her eyes. "A smooth tongue does little in the wake of marriage," she chuckled now, and wrinkled her nose, "and, as Obi-Wan Kenobi, the great Negotiator of the Jedi Council, I feel you should know that tidbit of information."

It was his turn to roll his eyes. "Aren't you so kind?" he swiftly gave her a chaste kiss and she transitioned across from him, the parts of her lightsaber between them. She could feel him study her movements as she settled into the same position as he was, and let out a puffed sigh. "Now," he cleared his throat and closed his eyes, "take a minute to quiet yourself and let's begin."

"Yes, Master." He popped an eye open at her, a smile daring his lips. She couldn't contain a giggle as she closed her eyes. She folded her hands in her lap and then added, "How is this going to work with our…new sense of the force?"

He was quiet a moment before letting out a smooth exhale, "Hmm," he contemplated, "I don't know. We shall have to see." He inhaled slowly and then released the breath through his nose, "Focus your attention on the crystal, just as before."

She said nothing, and instead moved towards the warmth brewing inside of her at the mention of the stone. A peace she had lacked in these eight days suddenly came over her, and she felt Obi-Wan's presence beside her in the force. Suddenly invigorated, she welcomed the warm rush over her body and exhaled an easy breath. She force, instead of coming in choppy waves, floated over her in a serene flood. Her heartbeat began to settle and she felt her nerves give way under the pursuit of the force, her body relaxing even as she sat. Her muscles began to unwind, her bones begin to sway only slightly as they did under manipulations of the force. She felt Obi-Wan sink into the depths as well, and suddenly felt a push from him in the force, which she responded to.

She raised a hand and beckoned through the force for the crystal, then stopped it when it was within distance. Then, with the other hand, she raised the pieces of the saber from the ground and brought them close, feeling their workings in the air. The force came in a rush, and a moving pattern suddenly came alive in her mind, and she saw the picture of the saber coming together. She inhaled and felt a release, then Obi-Wan's pull in the force – she felt a piece thrust into another, and a sudden tingling erupted across her skin. Suddenly she felt very aware of her surroundings and not at all empty, her mind beginning to run with thoughts – however, thoughts that didn't distract her. She felt Obi-Wan again move in the force, then pull back. In a sharp moment she felt a rush of the force that knocked the air from her lungs, and then Obi-Wan's steady voice.

"Concentrate," he murmured, "it is only me."

She felt a fire begin to settle over her, then a wrapping of the force around her heart again. She felt the crystal explode in a flame of heat and power, and suddenly together she felt them thrust the crystal into its home chamber. A blow hit her gut, and she felt Obi-Wan move towards her in the force again and connect with the core of her stomach. Their strength in the force intermingled and expounded in a rush. The crystal began to hum.

She then brought her hands within stroke's distance from one another, and listened as the pieces began to work amongst themselves in a beautifully constructive clatter.

Within minutes the saber came together between them, and it fell into her awaiting hands. She, suddenly coming out of the force, opened her eye and leveled again, her head slightly spinning from the connection with Obi-Wan. The hilt of the saver was warm, but fit her hand perfectly – a slender model, with black grips and golden accents on a silver hilt. She blinked at it, solemn, and then looked up at Obi-Wan, who was smiling at her.

"Congratulations," he said genuinely, "it would appear you've found your lightsaber, my darling." A smile pulled at her lips and she stood slowly, activating the blade. The blue, which matched his own, lit up the dimly lit quarters and cast his face in a wash of blue hue. He stared at her as if he were gazing at a masterpiece, her eyes forever cemented on the elegance.

"It is a beautiful sight," she breathed. The newfound power rushed through her hand and into her body; feeling the familiar hum of the lightsaber in her nerves was both reassuring and empowering. She felt a piece fall back into place inside of her, one that had been disjointed and disconnected. She broke her gaze with the lightsaber and found him staring at her, a fleck of desire and lust permeating his eyes.

"It most certainly is."

She deactivated the blade and attached it to the vacant clip on her belt, feeling it hit against her hip, suddenly at home. The reassurance filtered over her, and she stepped towards him, taking his hands in her own and intertwining their fingers. He stepped towards her to bridge the distance between them, and she fell into the mold of his body perfectly. "Thank you," she whispered, smiling at him.

He nodded. "Of course." Obi-Wan released her hands and brought them to her face again, stroking her cheek with his thumb before letting one slide down her arm temptingly – which sent pinpricks of warmth across her skin. It came to rest at her hip and snaked around her waist, his other hand moving down her neck to brace behind it and slowly move down her back. "Now," his tone changed to that of the studious master she had once recognized, "I believe it is time that you properly welcomed me home, my love."

She nodded, "Of course," she let her head fall back slightly and brought her palms to rest on his chest, intertwining her fingers with his faded and thin tunic. "What did you have in mind?"

His chuckle was deep and throaty, "Patience," he lowered his head to bring their foreheads together, "and let me show you."

With that, he bristled only slightly and gently draped her head over his arm, his hand from her waist coming to cup her cheek tenderly, his fingertips brushing her skin and playing with the curls behind her ear. The other arm boldly and solidly held her firm across her back, and he tipped his head and bent to kiss her deeply. Almost instantly she was lost in him, almost losing her balance by the ferocity and mixed tenderness of his ministrations. His beard tickled her chin, and it tempted a giggle in her throat. Instead, she let out a sigh of contented satisfaction, which only gave him more cause, and the traced his tongue across her bottom lip, and she returned the favor with savage vengeance.

Her hands moved down his chest and came to his torso, and she pulled the fabric of his tunic towards her, as if he could get closer. However, he did not betray her affections, because he suddenly and without warning thrust his tongue into her mouth, which startled her and caused her to buckle into him. Surprised, he broke their kiss and caught her by the arm. "I'm sorry –"

Breathless, she frantically shook her head and rose on her toes, slinging her arms around his neck and dragged him back down to rejoin them again, allowing one of her hands to fall back into place along his bearded cheek. Suddenly they connected at the waist, noting his fingers digging into her hip. "No...no," her breathing was short, "don't...be sorry," She dragged her nails slightly across the bearded skin of his jaw, and he moaned slightly, taking her by the hips and burying his fingers into her clothing. She swayed backwards slightly when he traced his tongue against her own, the sensation making her head light. He caught her securely by arm.

Then, without cause, his foot wrapped around her ankle and pulled abruptly – and suddenly her feet were gone out from under her and they were falling; her heartbeat racing, suddenly cushioned by the force before hitting the floor lightly, him positioning himself above her, but not straddling; off to the side. In a breath he was kissing her again, savagely pursuing every inch of ground that she would give him, her body quaking with every ounce of invitation and desire that a woman could muster.

Their breathing now shallow, she realized she was making noises she had never known one person could make in the wake of such pleasure. It was a mixture of squeaks, sighs, and moans that had seized her breath, which was surprisingly matched by his own guttural groans and breathy moans. She began to feel herself unraveling; nerves, pressure building in her abdomen, mind fuzzy with uncertainty. Every ounce of her was on fire, and she realized they both were sweating – clothing seemed to weigh the weight of an army on her body.

And then suddenly, he broke from her mouth and started planting kisses to her jaw, and down her neck to her collarbone, which elicited sharp breathes from her. She hadn't realized her fingers were digging into his back as sharply as they were, and her eyes floated closed as he sucked the skin of her collarbone tenderly. Sweat trickled down her temple now, and she felt that his beard was damp – and that every ounce as him was as tight and hot.. Half aware of him, she tried to focus her attention away from the bundle of nerves now pulsating through her gut, and instead drug her fingers through his hair tantalizingly. He grunted, and tenderly nipped at the soft flesh behind her ear. When she wriggled away, he kissed the spot instead.

Without warning, his fingertips brushed across the exposed part of her abdomen, which was showing as her tunic had ridden up from their fall. It was a familiar touch that she remembered from their dueling match and it was oh so welcomed. But, as his fingertips roamed farther up her waist, so dangerously close to her chest wrappings, she had to gasp and swiftly took his chin in her hand and pulled him up to look at her – and said nothing in subsequent return. They just shared a look, and she saw that reasoned was out of his grasp as much as it was hers. They were not thinking, only feeling – and it was _fast._

When she said nothing, he lowered his head to meet her again in a kiss, still supporting himself above her on strong arms, his hair having fallen into his face again. He moved to straddle her now, knees on either side of her hips, her falling again farther into his strong, enforcing kiss. Her eyes fell closed again and she enmeshed her fingers with the front of his tunic again. Now entirely aware of his readiness, she lost herself in this time kissing him, letting her hands roam the strength and solid flesh of his chest, even beneath the tunic.

Far beyond thinking at this point, she was half aware that her hand was sliding down his chest and had stopped at the waist of his breeches, fingers laced in the loops and workings of his belt. She hadn't realized she was tugging, or that she was breathing in a mixture of gasps and breathy groans, until he broke their kiss and sat back. He stood on his knees now, staring down at her, his eyes hurting.

"No," he shook his head, voice tenderly soft, and moved his hands to her own and pulled them from his waist. He stroked her palm with his thumb, "that isn't something we should do, not now." She could tell he was as aching for it as she was by the uneasy shakiness in his voice, as well as the desire and passion rushing through his eyes. "We must wait."

She groaned and closed her eyes, arching beneath him only slightly at the terrifying thought of the ache settling in her lower abdomen. It clawed like a thirsty beast for him, in every way, and she let out a breathy gasp, "Oh, _Obi-Wan…_ "

Her toes curled as his name came off of her tongue, as visions leaped through her mind. She had only heard of the workings of intercourse from the Temple, ever the dedicated and chaste Jedi. Every part of her now screamed to make the hearings a reality now, and it flared heat into her chest. Her body was on fire to the point she thought she would incinerate.

He closed his eyes and let his head fall back; taking in a deep, heavy breath, then raked his fingers through his hair. "Oh, my love, I know," he was almost _gasping,_ and then let out a direct and sharp groan of agony, "… _I know_." He pulled at the waist of his tunic, and then sharply rolled away from her, now resting beside her, eyes closed.

He had to take a few moments of silence to collect himself, which she was thankful for - her body began to slow, the mechanics calming again until her heartbeat was now only a thud instead of a hammer.

They rested for a few moments, steadying their collective breathing, and his hand groped across the floor for her own and held it, interlacing their fingers tightly. He squeezed her hand affectionately. He was silent a long moment, taking deep breaths, until he finally spoke. "We cannot let this happen again."

She rolled her head to look at him. The very thought killed a part of her, as she wanted every part of him - and wanted him to have every part of her as well. "Oh," she sighed, "but why _not_? It was glorious," the confession was more of a contented sigh as a rush of heat pooled into her stomach again - her nerves tingling again at the very thought. Her head was still light and dreamy from the feelings and adrenaline.

He rolled his head to give her a desperate, knowing smile. "I am well aware," he blinked furiously, as if to clear his eyes, "but I am afraid that I am selfish enough to not be so self-controlled next time." His honesty was brutal and direct.

She smiled softly at him and nodded, then rolled her head back to look back up to the ceiling. She sighed deeply, and closed her eyes. She said nothing for a second before she remembered his debriefing. "You should go," she said quietly, "before the Council worries." The thought of him leaving socked her in the chest and dropped a weight into her gut, but she pay it any mind. She doubted that if he stayed she'd be able to relent, so he had to go. She knew he had to go.

He groaned and covered his face with his hands. "Everything in me tells me to stay," he rolled to his side and propped his head up in his hand, then brought her hand to his lips for another kiss.

She gave him a small, sympathetic smile. Everything in her wanted him to stay as well - but, she also knew he had been right. Such acts were reserved for marriage, and not to be soiled before then. A promise and anticipation best left until then.

Her eyes roamed down his body and she wriggled across the floor to come beside him, and brushed aside the hair from his face, draping the other hand around his torso. He crossed a leg over her own, his booted heel brushing her ankle.

She quietly smiled at him and wrinkled her nose knowingly, "All the more reason for you to go."

He nodded and pushed himself up, rising slowly, and stretched his back. She got up too, wrapped her arms around her middle, then reached up to run her fingers through her hair, puffing out a breath. The awkward tension was only slightly extreme, but the way he looked at her briefly was enough to send such thoughts of awkwardness out the proverbial window. She could never feel awkward around him again, even if she tried.

He extended a hand and cupped her cheek, thumb brushing her skin graciously, and gave her a lopsided smile. "You are a good woman," he nodded, and let his hand fall, then stooped to grab his cloak fro the floor. He shrugged back into it and she smoothed his shoulders, and they moved towards the door. She wrapped her hand around her lightsaber, which was still at home on her hip and strangely warm.

They stood facing one another, and she reached for the controls. He looked over her again and she thought better of the panel, instead raised a hand to open the door effortlessly with a wave of the force. He smiled at this and quirked a brow, shaking his head slightly. "A good woman, and a good Jedi."

She smiled at him softly, then stepped towards him to wrap her arms around his middle and plant a swift kiss on his cheek. "I'm glad you think so."

Obi-Wan grinned at her, cupped the back of her neck with his hand and pulled her forward for a quick kiss to the forehead. "I do," he pulled back, winked at her, and stepped through the door. He quickly stepped away from the door and then peeked back into it, "I will see you later, my love," his voice was barely above a whisper, and he tossed her a confident and overly attractive wink. She giggled at him and rolled her eyes. He moved out of the doorway and down the hall, and she stepped out the door to watch him go.

Her lightsaber swayed against her hip.


End file.
